Expectations
by awakenthesun
Summary: Book One
1. One

_Swimming in paradise – that's what it was._

Blemished gold touched the sky with a miraculous wonder and clouds of creamy ivory decorated the azure of such majesty. It would warm the hearts of many to come, to be brought to life on earth.

She tucked back a honey colored strand behind her ear and stood up from the position she thought comfortable. Leaving her place, the girl began to tread upon the grassy field through which daisies and jasmines bloomed with utter grace and beauty.

She finally advanced towards the situated area where lawn met ash-black pavement. Her shoes, she heard, reverberated in the thickness of humid air, as she meandered around her neighborhood. The sun's rays pounded against her, mercilessly, and she felt herself grow hot underneath her dark sweater. Carefully, she removed the piece of garment and tossed it over her shoulder and left it hanging.

Walking to a nearby café, she opened the door and let herself in, smelling the pleasant fragrance of coffee. Midnight Café opened on early afternoons and closed at midnight. But for her, it was opened at any hour of the day and she was thankful for that. Otherwise, she would never be a morning person. Unlike many places, it was a place for talent, a place for tranquility, a place to just be.

Carefully, she walked towards the counter and greeted the boy behind it. He flashed her a sly grin before leaning his weight upon the stand as well and stared into her green depths that were her eyes – the portals to her soul.

"Clare." He said casually. "Vanilla Dreams again?"

She let out a casual shrug. "Might as well."

He shook his head with a laugh and returned to the back of the café to brew up some coffee.

That's what she loved about the café. It was so peaceful and it wasn't a place for bothersome tourists either. It wasn't placed in some fancy city and it didn't have a marvelous name. It was just relaxed.

Then there were the names they had chosen for the varieties of coffee. It wasn't the usual 'Mocha Frappe' or 'Cappuccino.' They had so eloquently described the tastes with imaginative labels.

It set the mood.

Taking her usual seat in the farthest booth possible – or the one more shrouded with darkness and very gentle blue lighting – she ordered a glass of water from one of the waitresses – her friends. In all honesty, she was welcome to get her own glass of water or dessert she wanted. She worked there. But today was one of those days where she wanted to be at peace – to be free from the duties of employment. Besides, she had other places to be.

"So how's thee Clare at this fine hour?" A voice interrupted her sweet thoughts. Clare looked up to see her friend with her beverage. He seated himself across from her and lay back against the wall to get a finer look at the stage up front.

Clare stirred the warm, brown liquid inside with the silver utensil, listening to its musical tingle it produced. Then, languidly, she held the cup to her lips and took a brief sip.

"Cut the drama bit, Peter. It's a little outdated."

He shrugged. "Not in this generation. Fortunately for us mere commoners, we've been backslapped by a bunch of universal teachers who think Shakespeare is God. They've got another thing coming if you ask me." He said, his voice dripping with drops of sarcasm.

"Perhaps a genius in his generation, but he certainly doesn't make an impact on me."

Peter let out a snort. "Yeah, Clare. Anybody who's as dark and depressing as you, you find an idiot."

"No." She objected, setting her cup down. "In fact, he was just a little too morbid and cynical for my taste."

"You make me laugh, Clare, you really do."

"I feel an insult coming on. Don't try it."

He held up his hands in obligatory defeat. "Got me. Give me credit for trying to imply it at least?"

She sipped her coffee again. "Two points worth."

"It hurts me right here," he indicated by thumping his chest where his heart would be located. "You've got a way with words. One of these days, you're gonna kill somebody with them."

"Oh joy." She said dryly. "I feel the excitement welling up already."

Peter stood up from his seat and disheveled the girl's hair by letting his hands through her silken hair, fully knowing that the presence of his hand on any part of her body was unwelcome. Favorably, her gaze was set ahead of her, staring at nothing, yet focused on something not visible to his own eyes.

"Go to school, Clare. You're an hour late." He said before retreating.

"Fuck off."

_**On to Degrassi High...**_

"There's that girl again," Jenna pointed out at the girl who walked in their direction, yet past them, ignoring their burning stares. Obviously, she had other things in mind. "She's beautiful, but she doesn't flaunt it."

"What, you're trying to ignore your boyfriend by flirting with girls now? That's painful." Eli said to her with a laugh as she hit him playfully.

Their group was busily observing the students that went to their school and usually commented on their taste of clothes, style of hair, and every other possible thing they could think of. It wasn't technically a hobby, but until school started there was nothing to do other than the fact that the boys had the option of playing basketball out in the back courts.

Finally, a black BMW pulled up in the student parking lot. The girl inside got out of the car and took her school bag with her, approaching the school entrance. She flashed them an admonished gaze before she disappeared into the building. Mysterious – that was the one word every one could agree on.

"What's her name again?" KC asked out loud, hoping one would answer.

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Clare Edwards". She's a sophmore if you can believe that."

"Yeah, and what a beauty at that." Eli sniggered as he received another punch to the arm except harder than the latter.

"Too bad she's not interested in you boys. You guys happen to be my property, remember?"

KC gave out a cynical laugh before he crossed his arms. "Oh right. You take the phrase, 'object of affections' literally than most normal people."

"I resent that!"

"Could've fooled me."


	2. Two

The English teacher sat on her desk and eyed her class one by one, an idea formulating in head. It was the time of year where projects were assigned and yet nothing popped into her head. She looked down beside her for a quick moment and spotted the play 'Romeo and Juliet.' She smiled lightly as she remembered the ending. 'Twas a bittersweet ending but sweet nonetheless.

Then, it came to her.

"Class, this project requires partners. And I'm not talking about an ordinary project either. If you look at it, perhaps you will see a good side to this."

"Nothing good comes out of any projects," muttered a frowning student. Mrs. Delacruz laughed and got up from her desk to approach the board, ready to write down any requirements needed as she spoke them.

"Not at all, Eli. Anyway, since we already have read 'Romeo and Juliet', I think it's the appropriate time to assign this. You will be assigned partners-

The student, Eli, beamed. "We get to pick partners, right?"

"No, Eli." She laughed. "I will. This project does require you to write an essay. No project comes without an essay of some sort. Anyhow, you and your partner will spend every waking moment together until this Friday when this is due."

The kids began groaning.

"Hold it, hold it. The whole point of this assignment is to let you learn something. Basically, the only thing you will do is write an essay. Topic? Love. Write the relationship between Romeo and Juliet. Was it too simplistic? Too fast, perhaps? Anything that concerns them will do just fine. That's not a real hard subject is it?"

A murmur of 'no's' came about the classroom. Mrs. Delacruz nodded.

"Good. I will be posting up a piece of paper by the end of class, which your assigned partners will be written on. For now, however, work on the dittos I just handed out."

As most of the students filed out of the classroom after the dismissal of the bell that signified the end of the day, Clare went up to the piece of paper clipped at the front of the class and looked at her name.

**Clare Edwards – Elijah Goldsworthy**

She had a perfect idea of who he was. She just wasn't excited about it.

She approached the teacher's desk and waited for Mrs. Delacruz to look at her.

"Mrs. Delacruz, do you think I could get a different partner."

"Clare, sweetheart, I know you. You don't judge people until after you get to know them. Why not give this boy a chance?"

Clare let a small laugh escape her lips. "Are you kidding me? I mean . . . you know how he's like in class, don't you? You do know his reputation."

Mrs. Delacruz took off her glasses and set them aside.

"You can find out the most out-of-world thing a person can do if you simply get to know them. Eli isn't necessarily a bad person, though he has his moments, but I assigned you two for a reason."

"What would that reason be?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing I know is that I'm certain you will be able to teach him something or two."

Clare cocked her brows in ambiguity, trying to comprehend the last words her teacher said to her.

"Alright." She sighed. Turning on her heels, she walked outside the class.

It was definitely going to be a long week.

This called for coffee.

**_On to the coffee shop..._**

"Hey, my girl Clarebear is back."

Peter received a whine – something very unlike Clare.

"Okay, what's up?"

"Shakespeare has kicked my ass up front." She muttered angrily. "You know the project Mrs. Delacruz seems to pass out every year?"

"Yeah." Peter brought her a cup of Vanilla Dreams and sat in the usual spot, watching her tinker around with the porcelain mug in her hands.

"This year, she decided to add partners and you would not believe the person whom I'm supposed to work with."

"You got me."

"Eli Goldsworthy."

She failed to notice the surprised look in Peter's face. She also failed to notice the fact he began to fidget and look elsewhere.

"I mean, of all people, why him? It's not as if I hate the guy. It's just – he's terrible! I doubt on my life I'll be able to work with him." Clare stared at Peter. "You okay?"

"You might . . . wanna take another shift."

Her stare darkened. "Why?"

"I just hired a Eli Goldsworthy and coincidentally, he wanted the same work hours as you. In fact, he's a regular customer as well."

Clare blinked. "Excuse me? What about you? I thought you worked the same shift."

"Yeah, but I resigned a week ago remember? I needed the early shift because of my college classes. They're taking up time."

"Bloody hell. I swear on my mother's deathbed that if you were not a friend of mine, I'd kill you." She glared.

"I would fire him for you, babe, but I just hired him yesterday. He works his first shift today."

"I will kill you."

Clare stood up and exited the café to return home.

Peter rushed to the kitchen to get ready for his afternoon shift.

The crisp breeze, fragrant with the scent of flowers and early summer, danced in the late air. The sun beamed down upon Clare in a glaring manner and with that, she lifted off another peal of clothing, leaving her in a black tank top. She would have taken the car with her, except for the fact she had to go back to the café later. It also was a short distance from there to her house.

For the most part, she loved walking.

Finally, she reached the entrance gate to her house and was surprised to find a car – that was not hers – parked in front of her house. A young man was seated on her lovely porch, relaxing himself in the hammock-like bench. She noticed him immediately.

"What the hell are you doing here? I should remind you that this is private property."

"Know me, do you? Didn't know I was loved that much."

Clare rolled her eyes, not wanting to pick a fight right now. She brushed past him and unlocked the front door. As soon as she was about to slam the door in her face, a shoe-clad foot sneaked in between the door and its sheath, so to speak, to prevent the door from closing in on him.

"Not a really nice way to treat your guest now is it?"

She held the door where it was. "I'm not nice and you're not a welcomed guest, so do me an honorable favor and leave."

"I'll be working with you in a few hours. What difference would it make? Every waking hour remember?"

She stared at him wide-eyed. "You really think Mrs. Delacruz meant that literally? Take it for its figurative meaning, you obnoxious miscreant."

He leaned himself on the door. "I could possibly do that but not under these circumstances. I happen to love what I do."

"And what's that, pray tell? Bother innocent girls who would rather kiss a dog than to see your ugly face? I'm sure." She tried to close the door again. Again, it was futile.

"No. I would hardly call you innocent." He grinned. "Far from it actually."

"If I'm not mistaken, this is what we normal people call harassment. Fortunately for you, I'm not close to the phone to call the nearest police station." She said firmly, not breaking her ground as she stared into his bright hazel eyes in defiance.

He laughed and reached into his back pocket. Then, without hesitation, he threw the object towards her. On instinct – and quick reflexes – she caught it in both hands and stared down at it.

It was a cell phone.

"Make the call. See if I care."

Clare bit her tongue. After a much long silence, or rather a brief pause in their conversation, she opened the door wide enough to let the boy in.

"What do you want?" She asked tiredly. "My whole purpose was to sleep. I have a late shift."

He shrugged. "I'll wake you up when we have to go. Simple as that."

"Eli, as a regular bystander at school, I know how you're like. Nothing is simple to you."

"True. With you, it's more complex."


	3. Three

He sat out on the backyard terrace, enjoying the sun-kissed glory her garden was bathed in. Although he enjoyed the scenery before his very eyes, that beauty, which had created a natural imagery in his head, dispersed quickly when he and Jenna began to fight once again.

"You know you could've done something! If you only talked to Mrs. Delacruz, we would have been part-

"Shit, Jenna! I could try a million times if I wanted to and she wouldn't change her mind at all! Do you really think I have control over these things? Do you think I enjoy the fact I'm partners with her? She's just a sophomore!"

"Yeah, but-

"Well, there's your answer! For God's sake, wait 'til Friday and we can get things back in order!" And he hung up. But a tad bit later did he do so for he had not missed the retort of her name calling.

Eli sighed as he stuck the phone back in his pocket.

"Could you be any more louder?" The sound of her languid voice was enough to make a man weak in the knees. He praised the gods that he was sitting down at the moment. He turned around and saw Clare stepping out onto the veranda in a white, sheer blouse, khaki capris, and beige sandals. She fixed her hair into a messy ponytail as she took a seat across from him. She definitely was not the tenth grader he had assumed to be.

"Why are you here when you can't even begin to think of the reason for your presence in my house, which, by the way, you were not welcome in."

He sighed. "Heard me?"

"No, really?" She shook her head at him, evidently sarcastic about her remark. "Why do you talk to her like that?"

"Jenna?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

Clare tucked her legs underneath her and leaned forward, as if to hear an important secret brought forth by the boy's lips who sat in front of her.

"Should I care?" He rubbed his temples and looked at her. "She's got five boys all to herself, yet she doesn't take notice of me. I'm her boyfriend. I've been her boyfriend longer than they have!"

"Quite the player, isn't she? Any idea why?" Clare stared at him intently.

Through curious eyes, he looked at her suspicion. "Are you trying to imply something?"

"Oh no. Not at all." She stood up. "I doubt I have the intelligence to imply anything at all since I'm just a mere sophomore, right?"

"Heard that too, huh?"

"Unlike you, I don't happen to be deaf." She snapped before stepping back into the house.

Eli groaned and got up from his seat, almost sad he was leaving the view, and followed her inside into the kitchen. Finally stopping, he watched her take out a glass of lemonade. They had quite the conversation just a few seconds ago - they had one like civil individuals. Of course, that didn't last long. The two just didn't mix.

_Then again, the phrase 'opposites attract' applied still, didn't it?_

"So, what time should we be going?" Eli inquired to rid the heavy silence blanketing them.

Since when did he care?

"Our shift is from seven to twelve. Lucky us. Why you picked it is unknown to me still." She replied.

"Oh? I suppose you don't have a reason?"

"In fact, I do." She huffed lightly and set the empty glass in the sink. "After midnight is a moment I happen to share with myself and, occasionally, Peter."

"Peter?"

"The manager."

"Oh. So tell me, what's so good about midnight?"

Clare snorted and continued about with her business, giving Eli simple remarks rather than elaborating her answers.

"You really think I'd tell a junior what my business is in life?"

"What, my status in high school suddenly helps you with your decision?"

"Hm, funny you should say that." She raised an eyebrow at him before leaving the house.

"Okay, okay. I'm being a hypocrite. But hell, no need to have an attitude about it."

"Oh God, can you be any more hypocritical?"

Eli decided it was time to change the subject. "Need a ride?" He asked her pleasantly.

_Perhaps a little too pleasant._

"No, thank you." She answered curtly, though giving him an icy glare. "I'd rather walk than to share the same air you breathe."

"We share it right now."

"Shut up. Just shut up."


	4. Four

Clare had been upset with him the whole way to the coffeehouse. She had called him an idiot for his lack of leaving her. Because she refused his offer to ride with him and decided to walk, he had decided to drive slowly to keep his pace in sync with hers and, unpredictably, she found it highly annoying.

"Peter!" She hollered as she stormed into the building.

Peter rushed out of the kitchen to greet her, only to meet her glaring eyes raging with fury.

"I can't possibly work with that idiot! If he doesn't fit your idea of 'moronic', I doubt I know what the meaning is anymore. Please reconsider his shift!" She begged.

Peter almost felt sorry for her. She had never looked so desperate. The caustic problems life brings for certain individuals practically reared its ugly head at innocents. He carefully wrapped his arm around her and brought her into the kitchen.

"Oh, give him a chance. He's not necessarily a bad person." He explained.

Clare stared at him. "Now that is creepy. You're beginning to sound like Mrs. Delacruz."

Peter paled. "Oh to hell with this. Just work with him, Clare. I need a break."

She growled and exited the kitchen to come face to face with Eli, who smirked proudly at her.

"So, baby, what do we do now?"

"Argh, enough with the catcalls and stay out of my face, Goldsworthy! I do not want to have to deal with you today and in pure honesty, I'd rather jump off a cliff than to have to spend at least an hour with you!"

Eli laughed and smirked at her as he watched Clare stomp towards the counter and take orders from the customers. Deeply, though, he knew what she said hurt him. No one told him words could hurt - he said it to others himself. But he didn't take the time to think how it felt in the other person's shoes.

He scoffed. What did he care anyway? In school, Clare was nothing but invisible so why did he care now? Oh, the project was getting to his head

_**Later On...**_

The last of the customers were leaving and for that, he was thankful. It was his first day of working and he already became tired. Partying until midnight was no problem whatsoever but when duty called . . . it was an entirely different story. He was surprised he didn't flat out faint yet.

After finished wiping the tables with a washcloth, he returned the materials to their rightful place before taking off the white apron that signified his employment at the café. At first glance, he thought it kind of girlish but then again . . . there were its good points. He had a job and to him, it was all that mattered. The girls looked up to him and no doubt he liked it.

Eli left the kitchen and picked up his backpack settled neatly in the side of the room. He stopped almost immediately when he saw Clare sitting out on the steps of the building with a plastic cup of coffee between her hands. He followed her gaze and what he saw was, he had to admit, quite fascinating. The full silver moon shone brightly through the dark, even skies and the stars twinkled like rare diamonds, watching over them.

"What are you doing?" He asked her, standing behind the young girl, his eyes also focused on the sky above him.

"That would be none of your business." Clare answered before becoming quiet again.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He apologized.

"Sorry for what? Sorry for being totally persistent, for being so idiotically annoying?"

"It's not my fault I'm thick-headed." He retorted and finally sat down beside her without being invited to. He didn't think he'd need an invitation but of course, quite evidently, the emotion in her eyes told him otherwise.

_Damn if he listened to them._

She gaped. "Thick-headed? Me? Oh yeah, I'm thick-headed. Look who's talking!"

"You like to point out the finer details in life, don't you?" Eli sneered.

Not that anyone could blame him. Clare had pushed his buttons to the limit. And he was not one to mess with when angry.

"I'm blessed with such a gift. I intend to use much of it as possible," Clare huffed and looked in his eyes. "And you like to torture people for the hell of it. Personally, you have a sick, twisted mind."

"Not as much as you, Saint Clare."

"Humph."

Clare sipped her coffee and looked directly up at the sky once more. She could see Eli looking at her through the side of her eyes. Although she was not interested in his wanting to look at her - whatever reason that may be - but it was the way he looked at her that seemed to cause shivers down her back. Whether it was a strange new feeling that was rarely felt when it came to Clare or simply a feeling of utmost resentment, she did not give a damn for it.

_Then again, nights like these did strange things to people._

_Perhaps she was being a little superstitious._

She hesitated before talking.

"I was six when my mom brought me here to show me this."

He looked at her with a confused expression. "What?"

"I'm answering your latter question, Saint Eli." She smiled barely, finding that the trademark phrase of Eli was unbelievably catchy.

He smirked at this and leaned back on his elbows, interested in hearing her talk more like she was talking to a companion.

"That night was like this night. It was quiet, it was deserted. At that time, this wasn't Midnight Café. It was Chocolate and Sweet Shoppe Inc. She loved what she did. She was a baker to say the least. My mom never, ever brought me to work until that night. She showed me a lot of things, taught me stuff I know now. Heh, when I was little, you could say I was a depressing child. No one could blame me though. My dad died when I was born.

"Anyway, my mom thought that I should have a nice time and that day was it. Funny, though, two years later - on the same night - she left me with a nanny and then went away, telling me it was for a business trip. She never came back."

Eli stayed silent, watching Clare's pensive face as she leaned her elbows on her knees, bringing the cup close to her lips.

"Right now, I would think I'm pissed as hell at her but surprisingly, I'm not. You have no idea how much I want to hate her. Then again, she pointed out the good things in life to me. And I suppose that's where my characteristic comes in where I tend to point out the 'finer details in life' as you said." She laughed. "I have to quit this ritual soon. It gets annoying after awhile. Even Peter's beginning to agree with me."

"Oh yeah. Peter stays with you often, huh?" He recalled.

Clare shrugged. "He used to. He's in college now. He's far too busy. I don't mind it at all. In fact, I was glad he stopped. That way, he wouldn't have to listen to me for three hours consecutively. And honest to God, I could talk far more than that time allotted. It's crazy."

Eli let out a small groan. Time to switch the subject.

"Now that we're being civilized individuals, tell me about yourself."

Clare stared at him funny, setting the coffee cup beside her.

"First, we talk about something rather sentimental and now, all questions are on me? How charming."

Her wit was beginning to rise from its shell again.

"Well, put it this way, you tell me about yourself and I'll tell you about me. Deal?"

"There's nothing about you that I would like to know. The day that happens is the day I keel over. How about that?"

"You hurt me, woman."

She smiled a little. "I have the touch, get used to it."

"You need to smile more." He said softly.

Clare shot him a fake grin.

"Don't exaggerate it. I mean, you have a pretty smile. Use it."

"Now I'm getting advice on smiling by Eli Goldsworthy. That's a little creepy." She re-thought her statement, a real smile on her lips. "Actually, 'little' is an understatement."

_That was the way he liked it. And, if he didn't know any better, he was beginning to think that the gap between them was drawing nearer . . ._

Her smile was fading, he saw, as he realized that she knew what was going on. He already knew he was caught in awkward position. He knew her for only a day - technically two - and already, he was beginning to kiss her or rather wanting to.

It was then he pulled away after Clare excused herself with a quiet mutter and left in the darkness.

"Shit," he mumbled. "Eli, you're a stupid, stupid fool. You have a girlfriend and she's important to you."

He sighed and brushed his hand through his hair.

He seriously needed to think this over.


	5. Five

Clare let out a heavy sigh before gathering up all the courage that she could muster to enter the building that stood before her. Before, it wouldn't have mattered to her whether she went in or not but it was a different story now. They attended the same schools, they had two of the same classes, which meant her being seen by him.

"Clare, you're impossible." She told herself and walked inside.

The previous night had quite the series of events. Somehow, she never did like the feel of it. Falling in love was a phrase she was alien to and was definitely not in her vocabulary. And it was worse seeing as how they had just met, despite their similar classes, and how he already had a girlfriend. She had practically stained her name with humiliation and shame.

It was now Wednesday and she had a day left over until that darned essay was due. How in Hell would she be able to write it? Before last night, she was fully composed, she knew what was doing, but somehow along the way, she fell apart and lost it completely. She was confused and it wasn't her place to be – well, at least, not in her mind.

Somewhere...

"Eli?" Jenna shook him gently although a fiery glaze in her eyes proved her gentle nature rather fake. "Eli, are you listening to me?"

Eli's early blank face now was replaced with a loving expression as he turned to his girlfriend who gripped at his arm in a forceful manner. Her eyes was definitely ablaze with fire and his was full of emotion – something that never was evident. But he had a lot of things in his mind now. Of course, it was about Clare.

The tortures of high school. He thanked God graciously that he was about to exit the Hell Hall, as many people called it, in turn for a college education.

He didn't think of Clare as a stupid sophomore anymore. She was now somebody. Somebody who he had feelings for.

He shook his head.

No. No, that's not right. The one who he did have feelings for was the one sitting right next to him. Although bossy and insensitive, she did have her caring side and that was what he adored the most. But Clare possessed the natural innocence, the femininity, and obviously, the insightful quality.

She was unlike any other girl.

Then again, she had kicked his senses and brought him back to reality the night before when she had left him.

Damn.

"Eli!" Jenna hollered. "What would possibly be in your mind this moment instead of listening to me?"

"More like who would be in his mind this moment." KC snickered.

Eli snorted. "Not more than your ugly face.

KC clutched at his chest in mock hurt and pouted.

"Really, now. You'd think that you'd be more civilized than that. Other girls seem to like this face. You're just jealous that girls naturally think that I'm very much high quality when it comes to looks."

Adam laughed at a gaping Eli. "Chill, man. The guy's sarcastic. He couldn't pluck a girl from the streets without making a fool of himself."

"Why would I, Eli, be jealous of something impractical for somebody like him?" Eli pointed at KC for a mere second, which made the boy scowl. "I mean, obviously, I'm better looking than the guy."

"And so, so vain," Adam added with a roll of his eyes. "You guys do nothing else but bicker, do you? Jesus, why don't both of you just get married so we can get this over with."

Eli and KC stared at him with wide eyes.

"You're a sick, sick man." They both said in unison and they returned to their nonsense argument.

In English class...

"Well, Ms. Edwards, out of all my students I'd expect you to be here least." Mrs. Delacruz smiled at the girl who was sitting at her desk, practically bored out of her mind.

She muttered a 'things change' before picking up a pencil and lightly tapping it against her desk, watching the clock. The day had gone by so slowly that she felt she was growing old of boredom. She crossed her arms on the desk and let her head drop down and used her arms as pillows although they didn't help much according the comfort ability scale.

The woman removed her glasses and looked at Clare.

"We have twenty minutes to burn before this class starts," she began, "why don't you tell me how your essay is coming along?"

She held back a chuckle when she heard the young lady emit a groan from her lips.

Bad sign.

In her years of teaching, it could only mean one thing. And she didn't call it pretty. And, of course, Clare wasn't one to whine or groan or do any of the sorts. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if pairing her up with the Goldsworthy kid was even a good idea.

"Is there any other way where I can switch my partners? I gave the guy a chance and honestly, I despise him." She sighed. "He moves a little too quick and I don't even know him. He's a junior for God's sake!"

This time, Mrs. Delacruz didn't hold back the chuckle.

"Ah, yes. The romancing in high school is a big thing. It's one of the things most teenagers look forward to."

"Well, I'm not 'most kids'." Clare rejoined bluntly.

"He's a growing boy-

"-who evidently hasn't been successful in passing the mature stage yet." Clare interrupted with a scowl. "I hate him. I really do. And truthfully, Mrs. Delacruz, I'm going nowhere with my essay. It's like . . . he's the center of all my thoughts and I will seriously go mad if he continues to receive such attention."

Mrs. Delacruz laughed. "You both are growing. It could mean nothing at all, Clare. At this stage in your life, we like to call it mixed emotions or hormones if you'd like to take the road less traveled. It's not uncommon. Every assignment I pass out, somebody has a problem with it."

"Yeah, but I consider my problem excused." She sighed. "I was talking to him last night and he takes life and love for granted. He really does. That's what I don't understand about him."

The teacher had an amused expression written on her face. "Isn't that something? Romeo and Juliet were in quite a predicament as well if I recall. Of course, that's all opinionated."

Clare arched a brow and looked at the older woman, bemusedly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, the two lovers had a great path ahead of them, they had a life, despite the certain issues they had with each other's family and so forth. They loved each other unconditionally, sure, but they risked their lives for it."

"True love should be based on that, Mrs. Delacruz. If you love somebody that much, then it's real. So it wasn't as if it was all done for nothing." The girl objected.

Mrs. Delacruz nodded. "True. Very true. But look at it from a different perspective, Clare. If you loved somebody with all your heart and soul, with every fiber of your being, yet loving that one person is risking your whole life, would you sacrifice it just for love?"

Okay. She was good.

"No? Yes? No."

"It's hard to decide. Love is a powerful thing, but your life is just as precious. So you see, Eli may be just as confused as you are."

Clare nibbled her bottom lip. This conversation had definitely taken a turn for the odd. She wasn't even sure if she understood everything her teacher said the whole time. At first, it sounded like rubbish, but then it became the knowledge of truth.

Love and life were both precious.

That was it. Plain and simple.


	6. Six

_Clare Edwards, Elijah Goldsworthy_

_September 22, 2010_

_Mrs. Delacruz, English_

_Period 4_

In all my years, I've always thought that true love did, in fact, exist. From many romance novels or fantasy movies, true love was always strong and it was usually portrayed as the one characteristic that conquered evil. That never ceased to impress me. Many times, I wondered what it would be like if I had someone to love – like what I've seen in movies. But then I read 'Romeo and Juliet' and I believe my perspective on true love has changed for the better.

Those two lovers had a love so strong, so strong that they were willing to sacrifice their own lives just to be together. In all honesty, I now deem them a little dull when it comes to the matters of the heart. They fell in love over the course of a day. If I recall from other people's experiences, it takes a while to truly love somebody. Sure, the play implicated that Romeo and Juliet were madly in love with each other, but I highly doubt they loved each other.

To be in love with someone and to love someone are two different things if you look close enough. When you're in love, you're constantly wondering if that someone is the right one for you, to wonder if he [or she] will treat you right, to love you for who you are. A rush of emotions creeps up your spine and gives you pleasuring tingles just because they are there constantly sweeps you off your feet. Passing those worldly sensations and mind-blowing emotions is the real commitment to actually loving that person.

Romeo and Juliet – they loved each other. Truly they did. But the fact of the matter is that they weren't. You know, it was simply puppy love that they shared. Their deep affection for each other was pretty much based on "love at first sight" and quite frankly, real love – true love – doesn't work that way. It's much more complex than that.

It's funny how the way love works – in my opinion, at least. It's one simple word, yet if you add one other word to it, it completely changes the meaning. It's amazing though because like I've said before, you can take a simple word and it would have thousands of meanings without you knowing it.

Mrs. Delacruz smiled as students filed out of the room. Before Clare could exit, she called her back with a wave of her hand.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Clare, this is simply beautiful. To think you had problems with writing this essay."

She smiled. "Thank you for the compliment, Mrs. Delacruz. But that shouldn't be directed at me."

Mrs. Delacruz looked at her funny.

"You didn't plagiarize did you?"

The girl smiled as she shook her head.

"I did the brainstorming, but I wasn't the one who wrote it." With that said, she picked up her books and left the classroom.

Mrs. Delacruz smiled and leaned against her chair as she looked at the desk that had been previously occupied by Clare's partner.

"Elijah, you truly amaze me."

**At the Coffee Shop...**

Peter came by to Clare's booth and set down her order. Then, he sat down in front of her and gazed at the smirking girl who was reading a book.

"So?"

She looked up. "So what?"

"How'd your essay go?"

"Oh, that." Clare rubbed the nape of her neck. "I think it went pretty well, considering the fact I didn't write it."

Peter gaped at her. "You didn't plagiarize, did you?"

Clare glared and whapped him with the book.

"Why is it that people think something's plagiarized every time I say I didn't write something? Other people are capable of writing essays or stories, you know."

He shrugged.

The sound of a bell had both of them turn their heads to the entrance door. In came a couple, holding hands. Clare smiled but in her eyes, there was a deep look of regret. She continued to look at the door for signs of Eli's other friends that usually hung out with them both. She watched as Eli said something in his girlfriend's ear, causing her to giggle.

Clare let out a heavy sigh.

"You alright?" Peter inquired, looking at her.

"Yeah, you know irony? Well, sadly put, I'm falling about someone I never truly liked." Clare looked elsewhere for a moment, not sure if she should have said that, but after that, her eyes were buried back in her book, ignoring Peter and the rest of the surroundings.

He looked at her in bafflement to the point where he finally understood what she meant. Finally coming to the conclusion that the girl wanted to be left alone, he left the table and went back to the kitchen, greeting Eli on his way in.

Unbeknownst to anyone – or at least he thought –, Eli looked behind him to the booth that Clare claimed "her space." He smiled at this, yet he needed to ask one quick favor. Turning back around, he looked at Jenna who was busy looking at the menu, deciding on her order. Her hand was still entwined with his and he smiled at this.

He looked at Peter who, surprisingly, was looking at him in amusement.

"I saw that." He said.

Eli shrugged and let a smile creep upon his lips.

Jenna looked at them in confusion. "Saw what?"

"Nothing, babe." Eli averted his attention back to Peter. "You think I could get another shift?"

Peter leaned against the counter.

"Are you sure you really wanna do that?"

Eli looked at Jenna, her attention elsewhere. Then, he gazed over at Clare who was still reading her book.

C'mon, Clare, look at me! I'm right here, he pleaded silently.

Almost as if his plea was answered, she looked up and stared at him. Then, to his abrupt surprise, she walked up to the counter and paid Peter, said a quick good-bye, and left the café.

He let out a wistful sigh.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay, Eli. I'm ready to order."

"Alright."

Peter shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen to come back out with their drinks. The two thanked him before leaving.

"You owe her." Peter said to Eli, his voice lowered so only he could hear it.

"I know."


End file.
